If your promises are lies I won't believe them
by Poetoffire
Summary: Rue tells Mytho that they're engaged.  When Fakir hears of this, he sets out to give her a piece of his mind and show her how wrong it is to claim other people.  Music drabble, Fakir/Rue, preseries.


Part of the **Blood like sunlight** music-inspired oneshot series. This was the first one I wrote, so it's not quite as out-there as some of the others. It's also the only "crack" pairing, and even then, I tried to keep it as in-character as possible.

The song is from a French musical on the Hunchback of Notre Dame, using the original novel, which is quite a bit darker and less black-and-white morally than the Disney movie. Another song from the same musical will come up a little later down the line, in the most controversial part of the series. Also, there's a Hunchback of Notre Dame theme to another drabble. I'm a little obsessed.

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Song: Ces diamants-la

Artists: Patrick Fiori and Julie Zenatti

Album: Notre Dame De Paris soundtrack, original French

Focus: Fakir/Rue/Mytho

Scenario: Preseries

Rating: PG (K+)

Warnings: Slight sexual tension, implied love triangle, crack pairing

Notes: The song itself, if you listen to it, sounds like a straight-up love song about an engagement, but there's a darker quality to the music that suggests their relationship isn't so wonderful. Later, he screws around on her, and then they get back together on his promise to kill the girl he cheated on her with.

It is definitely worth it to Youtube "Ces diamants-la" and find the performance, if only for Patrick Fiori's voice. Let's just say that a big draw of the musical is that the songs function as a vehicle to display some absolutely breathtaking vocal talent (and they're singing in French!). Every character has a voice that would make a production, and the harmonies are awe-inspiring.

Anyway, enough advertising. Onto the ficlet!

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**If your promises are lies I won't believe them**

Rue knows Mytho is where Fakir is. Therefore, she can always find Fakir. So when the infuriating boy drops her in the middle of a demonstration pas de deux, loudly proclaims her an unworthy and dominating partner, and stalks out of class, she knows he's sitting under her tree.

She walks up to him. He doesn't even acknowledge her.

"I'll have you know you gave me a nasty bruise on my hip," she says. "You really could have hurt me."

He glares at her.

"What is it, Fakir?" she asks, trying to keep her voice calm. "We must completely trust each other to work together in performances—"

"This is ridiculous," Fakir says. "No one's promised you anything."

Of course. It all comes down to that.

"You don't understand about my prince," she says, and watches him flinch at the word. "He promised—"

"He'd promise anything, you know it's just words in his mouth." Fakir stands up, towers over her. "You can't…claim him like that!"

She shrugs, remembering Father's words. Let Fakir try to threaten her, her destiny is to be with the Prince. "It doesn't matter, if he can't understand it."

"You're right, actually," Fakir says, and relaxes a little. Only a little. "I'll just tell him he isn't engaged to anybody."

"It's awfully cruel of you, to keep him from me, all to yourself, don't you think?" Rue asks. She smiles up at him, and he steps forward, reaches out to her. "He isn't yours more than he's mine, or anyone else's."

She can smell his sweat. She looks up at him, as he fumbles with his trembling hands. He always grabs her arms, shakes her around. He knows it means she wins, but he can't help himself.

"You're not stupid, you know he isn't yours." he says, and his arms fall to his sides.

Rue throws her hair. "Fair enough. But I'm his."

Then Fakir grabs her shoulders, swoops in to kiss her.

She stands, still as the tree, as he bends her back. Neither closes their eyes. Rue watches his face, and there's nothing there but menace. It's just another attack.

She parries. Kisses back, reaches up, touches his face.

He startles back and hits the tree. "There," he says, but his voice is shaking. "I won't take what's yours, if you don't—"

"Understood," she says.

She comes to Mytho's dormitory that night, takes her Prince outside, to dance on the cobblestones and caress by lamplight. She whispers his every movement before he makes it. If he could taste or smell, he would know Fakir's hands and lips and anger hang all over her.

Fakir is probably watching from the window.

For once, Rue can't say who he looks at more.


End file.
